


Predators

by StrayingThoughts



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Gen, Multi, alien - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-12-14 10:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11780826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrayingThoughts/pseuds/StrayingThoughts
Summary: Whatever you believe, where ever you're from, you and every other intelligent species have some concept of prey and predators. Zebras have stripes to blend, wildcats have the ability to see in the dark. So, a creature that's faster than trains, has vision so hot it can melt steel, can fly, see through nearly anything, super strength, and can only be harmed by a specific type of ore; is it evolved to be the ultimate predator? Or is it defensive from something far worse?





	1. Dusk

Whatever you believe, where ever you're from, you and every other intelligent species have some concept of prey and predators. Zebras have stripes to blend, wildcats have the ability to see in the dark. So, a creature that's faster than trains, has vision so hot it can melt steel, can fly, see through nearly anything, super strength, and can only be harmed by a specific type of ore; is it evolved to be the ultimate predator? Or is it defensive from something far worse?

 

01:00 AM Metropolis 2012  
Clark lies in his bed next Lois, a day of hard work completed. His son, Jon, also fast asleep. Peaceful and undisturbed, even while Lois screamed desperately pounded her hands against the dark column that had engulfed her husband, lifting him and the side of the bed he was on phasing through the ceiling. Likewise, her son too in that moment was lifted out of her home, both unable to hear anything in their dark tunnels.

01:00 AM Gotham, Metropolis, as well as other major cities across America, 2012  
No one was ready, or even really knew how or why this was happening, but in the same moment as Superman's body left our world, hundreds of thousands returned. Every street on every major city was suddenly covered by people who had been missing, some for weeks, others for decades. But none rejoiced at their return, they marched the streets causing havoc everywhere they went. They smash windows, cars, even attacking any people who came to close. Naturally, every member of the justice league bounced to action, and not one had the time to notice their missing members.

04:00 AM Gotham 2017  
Clark drowsily opened his eyes, the monitor of his screen blinking and making an awful notification sound. I'll have to change that setting, he thought to himself, pulling closer the blanket Alfred had put over his shoulders at some point. His back ached, which is a normal repercussion of falling asleep at a desk, regardless of how fancy the furniture of the batcave may be. 118 new missing cases in the United States open within the last 24 hours, a number that an improvement to what had been being faced just 5 years ago. His back made a loud popping sound at he readjusted himself, getting ready to open the latest update over the Rinor case.  
Addison Rinor was one of the sea of people who returned on 2012, an incident that in now referred to as 'The removal' a name coined from the fact that Superman, Superboy, Supergirl, Powergirl were all taken from the earth. Naturally the justice league searched through galaxy, God only knows how many hours Alan, or Green Lantern, as he liked to be called, dedicated to flying through space searching. When all the people returned they all stopped the mayhem they had been causing the instant the sun rose. None are able to recall where they've been and what they'd been doing when they gone, or even why they were attacking everything.  
Of course efforts were made to make them remember, where it was found every single person who had returned, now had an intense resistance to all hypnotherapy, or even the idea of hypnosis or mind control. To the point where those who were forced required sedatives. And, even more troubling there were some who even 5 years later didn't act themselves, that were compelled to keep digging holes or built things with no idea what they were trying to make, and they'd be withdrawn from anything or anyone that they had cared about before their disappearance. And then, there was the case of Ms. Rinor.  
2 years old when she disappeared, Ms. Rinor was now 34 years old, and while even with the assistance of drugs others under hypnotherapy could only stutter vague things that never had enough detail, Ms. Rinor was different. Perhaps it was because the time she spent abducted was all her mind could reach for, all earthly things had long been forgotten for her, but she gave the most information of any patient. The things she'd say would chill Bruce to the core, all people taken were given tasks, you were either a miner, searching for green rocks, or a builder, helping in creating special tools. If you resisted, screamed, rebelled in anyway, you would be taken to 'the room'. The room was something that was often mentioned, but rarely explained. Ms. Rinor when pressed, explained as a place where all who were sent there never returned the same. They only wanted to work, nothing else mattered to those who left the room.  
Of course there was the question of what the abductors looked like, but all she did was laugh, she laughed hysterically. Every time they tried to ask her, and they tried many times with many methods. Nobody knew what they looked like, where they were from, or where they were now.  
The sound of ringing filled the room, his phone making it's own sound that once had no emotional effect on Bruce now frustrated him. The world was down four heroes, one of them, debatably one of the galaxy's finest. So naturally the Justice League had been taking turns on who had to save Metropolis, but even the turn system would fail since every so many weeks there'd be a creature they could only hope to defeat as a group. But he couldn't back down, no matter how sleep deprived he'd be. He picked up the phone and skipping the niceties hissed, “What?”  
“S-superman.” Will, acting secretary of the Justice League stuttered. “He's here. Right now.”


	2. Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce finally lays eyes on Clark, and finds just one piece of what his dear friend has suffered through, and is left with more questions than answers.

When Bruce arrived at the Hall of Justice, he through gritted teeth told the world this was “fucking bullshit” as he looked at the giant crater going through the building's ceiling. “Is everything alright, sir?” Alfred asked through his masks' earpiece. “Fine, fine. Just get ahold of some contractors, we're going to have fix the hall. Again.” He hurriedly said, jumping out of the batmobile as he did. The building was basically uninsurable, as on a good year there was only two explosions, attacks, or some other nonsense that always resulted in a new bill.  
He wasn't the only one rushing to the scene, he could see Diana, wearing her Wonder Woman attire, flying her invisible jet over head. Not that it could hide her from his sights. But not one to wait for back up, Bruce rushed into the building alone.  
Dust from the rubble hovered in the air, papers, like furniture, the shock of the crash having hit like an earthquake. “Barry, you come here quick, Superman's in the building!” Said a more composed Will, still manning his desk, despite the building looking abandoned by all security and other personnel that ought to have been in the foyer. “Where is he?” Bruce asked, not waiting for Will to put down the phone. Will acknowledged him, but only pointed to the far left door, which had been the way to Superman's office, not that he used it much before he was taken. If anything it was a formality. Will hit the end call button and continued to dial probably every super hero the phone lines would allow him to reach.  
Batman charged through the door, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the sudden change of light. It was darker here, the power completely knocked out, the only illumination came from the moon's light, the new skylight allowed into the room. Chunks of the ceiling littered the floor. Pictures of Clark, smiling with his family, were cracked and smashed onto the floor. He could hear some awful but small noise, perhaps from the lights, or metal creaking, or something else that could have been broken. And there in the corner, obscured by darkness, was a hunched figure. Bruce squinted his eyes, trying to get a better view. “Superman?” He called, unsure if Will had properly checked who had dropped into Superman's office. “Out.” A small, hoarse, voice said.  
Bruce took a step closer, putting his hands up in the least threatening way he could as he peered at the corner. As his foot touched what used to be a book on Clark's desk, he saw him. Clark. He was curled up in the corner, into something of a ball. One hand reaching the back of his neck, where he seemed to be continuously scratching. The other wrapped around something he couldn't quite make out, Clarke's hand with the darkness making it utterly undiscernible. Clark himself was wearing clothes that appeared felt, and were indecisive in color, randomly switching from a light yellow color to a slightly different yellow color, then to black. Honestly it looked hideous. But it was nothing compared to Clark's face. Which in a strange way made Bruce thankful for his angry mood, else he'd probably had burst into tears. The once great Superman now looked like hell. To say he looked tired would be an extreme understatement. He appeared more the way a bad special effects makeup artist might make a killer who's never slept before would. Exaggerated eye bags, paired with unreal dark circles. The kind that could be mistaken for overuse of eyeliner.  
“Clark, it's okay-” Bruce started, doing his very best not to be the intimidating Batman, when the hoarse voice croaked “Out” again. It was at this moment Bruce realized Clark hadn't even looked up at him, he was just staring at the floor, mumbling words while his eyelids fluttered, obviously battling their need for sleep. “Clark...” Bruce softly spoke, pained to see his friend in such a state. That's when Clark's eyelids betrayed him, staying closed for a moment. A moment of rest was all Clark got, before let out a cry of pain, startling Bruce. “Get it out.” He said sharply as his eyelids flew back open. Batman rushed to his side, nearly slipping in his rush to give him aid. That's when he saw the soft green glow of kryptonite. A tiny bottle that seemed to have a needle, it's tip emitting the green hue. Not enough to ever kill Clark, but enough to torture him. His skin just bellow the protective bottle was torn into, his fingers still desperately scratching as the bottle, seemingly undeterred by scraping his own flesh. “Clark!” Bruce shouted as he grabbed his arm, forcing his hand away from doing any more harm. A confused look made its way on Clark's face, as he for the first time, looked up at Bruce. His hand continued to twitch in scratching motion.  
“Holy crap, you are alive!” Flash exclaimed, suddenly beside Batman, looking at Superman with wonder and excitement. It took nearly every once of self control for Bruce not to jump at Barry's arrival. He sincerely hated it when he did that. “Flash, pull that out of his neck.” Batman instructed, pointing at the torturous device on the base of Clark's neck. “Why don't you do it?” Barry shot back, never one to simply shut up and listen. “Because we don't know how deep or wide the device is and the velocity of your pulling it with me holding Superman steady will help control percentage compression-” Bruce started to explain, making a point to use words that scream 'I'm smarter than you'. “In English, B.” Flash interrupted. “Think of it like a band aid. Slow hurts, fast gets it over possibly without him even feeling it.” He said with slight grin, certain he had won this squabble. Flash rolled his eyes, but did as he was told and with the two actually managed to work together.  
With one swift pull the device was out of Clark's neck, and only seconds later Clark passed out, his full weight pushing onto Bruce, who'd been helping keep him still while Barry did his part. He was nearly crushed by the sudden force of weight and fell backwards with Clark on top of him. Clark's hand still tightly held the little object. Bruce immediately was met with sight of Flash looming over him with his own stupid victorious grin. “Not a word.” Batman growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive my questionable attempts to make Batman sound smart, I tried very hard.


	3. Thus the bickering began

The trouble with gathering almost all members of the justice league is the only thing every member can agree on is bad people should be stopped. Beyond that the Hall of Justice meeting room was absolute mayhem. Bruce couldn't hear his own thought over the arguing. It was times like these that reminded him of how wonderful working alone is, as he sat at one of the many chairs surrounding the oversized table. Naturally, he was sandwiched between Hawkgirl, who's wings seemed determined to hit him, and Plastic Man, who was probably one of the most annoying people Bruce had ever had the displeasure of sitting next to.  
“All I'm saying is if we tie the truth lasso around Superman, we'll have reliable answers as to what is going on.” Hawkman said with a booming voice, trying to speak over the cacophony of words being spewed throughout the room. Since Clark's arrival there had been those who were just happy and relieved, but there were also many heroes worried and afraid that Superman may be a changed man. Many sited those who returned during the Removal and had never returned to normal. None of those people could be defined as dangerous, but there was the night of their arrival when they did attack. And there was the matter of how Clark had returned alone. Without his son, & without a colleague.  
It'd been three days since Superman's arrival, it had been kept as quiet as an event that call heroes across the globe could. No reporters knew, the world didn't know, and much to the debate of the meeting room, not even Lois knew. They didn't intend to keep in her in the dark long, but many felt they should wait until they knew if the return was actually a good thing. Some even felt he should be treated as a criminal until they had a better understanding of what had transpired the past few years.  
Not that any of this had actually affected the man of the hour, Clark slept in a coma like state where he baffled all doctors. As it turned out they had next to nothing to compare his current state to. It seemed he, as well as supergirl and powergirl, tended to opt out of all medical checks. The few that had been done only continue to prove how little is actually known about Kryptonians. At this point it was in question if they bleed, as Superman despite being wounded had no visible liquid on his neck. The exposed flesh was like the flesh of a human and more like layers of rock, hard and, though they didn't dare test it, likely still bullet proof. They did find a crust, that could have been blood clotting, but if that were the case Clark isn't like humans in even the most basic of senses.  
It was believed he was, to a certain extent, aware of his surroundings. When an attempt was made to pry Clark's hand open, in order to get a better look at the crystal he brought, his eyes flew open. The poor doctor who dared saw Clark's eye turn a vibrant red, when the doctor frantically backed away he blinked and his eyes returned to their usual blue shade. When the heroes who had already been wary of Superman's return learned this many felt they now had proof that something was deeply wrong.  
Though, that wasn't all the proof that could be reached for, there was also the matter of his clothes. At some point, in the dead of night, he had woken from his slumber to switch outfits. He'd taken what had been a spare scrub uniform intended for nurses, as for his previous strange outfit, they only found a pile of ash. Testing was being done on what remained, but even among heroes who personally knew him, there have been rumors that he burned the clothes because they had evidence.

“Silence!” Diana thundered, her voice commanding enough succeed in quieting all the heroes. A great relief to Bruce, who had developed an awful headache from the madness. “We will not tie up our comrade! We will not imprison a man who has just arrived home!” She shouted, slamming her hand on the table for added emphasis. “And just what will we do? Wait for him to attack a doctor?” Hawkgirl countered, causing much of the room to hold their breath as they felt the tension rise. “He won't be hurting anybody. Have you looked at him? He's the one who's been hurt!” She boomed.  
She wasn't wrong, they clearly didn't know much, but they were able to understand the device that had been implant in Clark would stab him with kryptonite, forcing him back awake. A cruel device, that clearly had been implemented for far too long. As is doctors had theorized that his behavior was likely simply due to the minds lack of sleep. But, again, little is truly understood of Kyrptonian physiology, so even that could be argued against. Since the device's removal Bruce personally had been seeing to it's hacking, which was seeing mixed results. He could bypass the security, but didn't understand the language it was written in. He'd tried showing it to some of the more terrestrial members of the league, but was met with equal confusion to his own.  
With a sigh, Diana continued to control the room. “We don't need every hero right now. Flash, Batman, and myself will keep an eye on our returned friend, and make sure all is well.” She turned her head to Hawkgirl, meeting her glare with her own. “Meeting adjourned.” She said, standing up from her chair, and exiting the room. Instantly the room exploded with noise when she exited. Batman didn't take any issue with the plan. He had been admittedly rather withdrawn, throughout the meeting, never letting anyone know where he fell on the scales within this matter, as he himself was having his own internal debate. Bruce was cynical by nature, and Clark was technically the most dangerous person he knew, even if he never did anything wrong, he was still physically capable of horrible things. But treating him like a criminal? When they know that he's been pushed to his limits as is? Sounded like an awful thought to him.  
With that, Bruce too rose from his chair and left the room, relieved the ordeal was over. And as he entered the hall, despite having left before Barry had, Flash stood leaning against the wall. “Do you ever get tired of that?” Batman asked, walking past him with a small shake of his head. “Do you ever get tired disappearing mid conversation?” Flash asked, walking behind him.  
“Good to see you two are getting along.” Diana said, peaking her head out from a turn in the corridor. “Oh great. Another meeting.” Barry groaned, putting Bruce's own thoughts into words. “I thought we'd all check in on Clark.” She gestured to the door only a handful of feet away. It wasn't normally a doctor's office, however it was converted so if there were any threatening changes the heroes could be on the scene in no more than a minute. “And after?” Batman asked, really not in the mood for more long pointless chatter. “He goes home with one of us. Or one of us stays here over night. Whatever works.” She nonchalantly stated, opening the door as she did.  
“What?” Bruce and Barry spurted at the same time. “I can't I promised Iris I wouldn't flake on this date!” Flash pleaded, receiving an eye roll from Wonder Woman. “You don't have to Barry, you'll just take a different shift.” As they entered the room it seemed there was little change, doctors and nurses buzzing on one side of the room, and Clark, looking far better than he had on initial arrival, sleeping through every noise they make as if it were a lullaby. “Well Batman, you got plans too?” Diana asked, her eye now staring intently at Clark. “Besides protecting my city?” Bruce raised an eyebrow as he spoke, wanting to make a reminder of sorts that he was Gotham's knight. “Dial down the drama, will ya? It'll survive one night, besides we're all going to have to spend time with Clark. Think of it as union required break.” Barry joked, patting Batman's back. Diana gave Flash the look that screamed 'you're not helping' before turning to Bruce. “If you really want, I can take the first shift. I just thought it made more sense if you did since A. You're a night owl and you need to be awake when on watch. And B. You've clearly been the most worried about him.”  
“I am not the most worried about him.” Bruce quickly said, embarrassed that she would say that. “...Right. I'm sure you practically have been mute the past few days because you haven't been worried about him. And that you've been checking on him every time the meeting had a break was just cause you felt like being here. And how you've been pulling all kinds of strings making sure-” Her smile grew as she listed the things he thought had gone unnoticed, making Bruce's face go from slightly pink to a tomato like red. “Okay, okay. Go. Have your fun.” He frantically interrupted, gently pushing the two out the door.


	4. Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce keeps an eye on Clark, who sleeps peacefully within the manor. But is he putting himself and Alfred in danger?

Bruce lounged in in the thrown like chair, trying to force himself to relax and read The Lovely Bones. He'd successfully had Clark moved to his manor, he didn't think he could stand another moment in that god forsaken madhouse of a meeting hall. Clark, hadn't given any mind to anything, he just slept in the unnecessarily huge guest bed. Bruce shifted again, he was antsy, after days of sitting around a boardroom the last thing he wanted was to sit some more. He wondered exactly how much attention he needed to focus on his guest, if he stayed in the room, would it be okay to work out. He could still keep an eye on him, right?

As he thought on this question the bedroom door was knocked on. "Come in, Alfred." Bruce permitted, closing his nearly untouched novel. "I brought you some sandwiches, Sir." Alfred stated, one hand holding the silver tray as he entered the room. "Not hungry." Bruce said, the disinterest in the meal apparent. "I'll leave them here, but please do try to eat tonight sir, I doubt even can fight well on an empty stomach." Alfred sat the tray down on the end table beside the bed. Bruce had the tendency to unintentionally starve himself, usually when wrapped up in thought, which for the last few years, has been most of the time. "I'll keep it in mind." Bruce said, getting up from his chair, stretching his arms as he did so.

Alfred left quietly and after a couple more minutes of internal debate, Bruce decided a little workout couldn't do much harm. He started with exercises that allowed him to keep a good eye on everything, squats, lunges, high planks. After an hour of rotating the three, he grew bolder, situps, he only lost visual for a moment, but, nothing bad happened, so he switched to pushups, which also limited his vision on the invincible man. Every time he popped up he was certain he'd pushed his luck to far, and was about to face the repercussions for it. But there was nothing. No jump scare, no moment of Clark suddenly being gone, just, peace. It was almost unsettling. He didn't move in his sleep, and he clutch that crystal so tight, if he were human he'd surely be bleeding.

Bruce sighed, taking eyes off his comatose company, and sat in his chair, physically less antsy, but his mind still hard at work. Not really letting him relax. He looked through his window, a peak at his Gotham bathed in the night, a sight far more comfortable than the unfamiliar regal guest room, or the sight of a friend that despite everything, he wasn't scared of. The sight of Clark more made him deeply sad. They always had a relationship that others struggled to understand, and in some ways, he did too. At every moment he was either being sarcastic, condescending, or plain mean to Clark, and yet Clark never returned the favor. If anything it just made him work harder to be friends.

He even forgave his skepticism. Bruce, more than anyone else years ago, spearheaded the what if he turns on us thought. He wanted to be sure there was a plan incase the man of steel decided he no longer wanted to aid the planet, but rather, harm it. Clark didn't simply find out about it, he more or less knew about from the moment it was though of. Bruce at the time didn't know about his super hearing, so as he made phone calls and ways to get his hands of kryptonite, Clark heard. He confronted him about it, but not for a second did he threaten him, even when Bruce got defensive. He even said "It's alright, I forgive you." with his big smile. It made Bruce want to punch him and his perfect face all the more. Forgive? He didn't ask for forgiveness. He didn't want forgiveness. Dammit, get mad at him. Get furious, hurt him even. But don't forgive him. It makes his actions sting far worse.

He huffed, the train of thought getting him upset again. He turned to look at the man in question, who, much to his shock, was awake. Clark chewed on a sandwich, his eyes squinting and his legs pulled into his chest. "Clark?" He couldn't help but blurt, as if his eyes must've been deceiving him. His eyes groggily acknowledged Bruce, though not much else changed. He continued eating his claimed food intently. "Clark, are you alright?" Bruce asked, worried about his lack of response. In his line of work he's seen tons of crazy nonsense, and experienced somethings that unlikely didn't begin to cover. Clark nodded, though, his movement was limited, his neck still wrapped in a cast. "Do you know who I am?" Bruce asked, making sure each of his words were slow and clear.

There could be brain damage from lack of sleep, or perhaps amnesia (something more likely than it should be), which would explain his odd behavior. He nodded again, finishing the meal that should've been Bruce's. "Okay, stay right here. I'm going to let Alfred know to send word to the others." Bruce planned on only sticking his head out the door, he couldn't take any risks. "...No." A cracked, soft, voice protested. Bruce's head tilted as he looked at his friend with more surprise. "...No?" Bruce repeated searching for explanation. Clark didn't meet his gaze though, he rather looked at his hand still holding the Crystal. "No." He said, slightly more firmly, although still a sick shadow of what he voice would ordinarily sound like.

Agreeing to not tell the justice league and more or less make the whole plan of him keeping an eye on Clark be pointless sounded like a bad idea. Disagreeing to a godlike creature that could crush his bones in seconds also sounded like a bad idea. "...Why not?" He asked, opting for stalling rather than answering either way. Naturally, the thought had occurred to him that there was the possibility of Clark waking up and not being himself. However when he thought of keeping kryptonite near, he was at the time far more concerned about his friend's health than his own, a decision he was quickly growing to regret. "I can fix it." An answer, that didn't entirely seem directed at him. "Fix it?" He parroted, trying to goad him into to giving him answers and ideally not more questions. "I...I just....fix it..." Clark seemed to be mumbling now, almost as if he were talking to the crystal and not Bruce.

"Clark..." Bruce spoke with softness, trying to be as unthreatening as he could be, raising himself out of the chair. Clark's eyes shifted back to Bruce, as though he just remembered he's here too. "...How long was I gone?" Clark asked, his eyes starting to take in the situation. "5 years." Bruce said, taking a step closer. At this Clark groaned, and buried his face in his knees.

Bruce heard what was definitely Clark's stomach growling for more food, and a slight grin appeared on his face. It seemed just as Clark needed lots of sleep on returning, he now required at least a few more meals. "I can call for more food if you want." He offered, getting no visual or verbal response from Clark. With more confidence now, Bruce went to the door, opening it to just a creak. "Alfred! If you could, bring more food!" He shouted, hearing a distant 'yes master Wayne' in response. He closed the door, looking back to Clark, who hadn't changed. It was then Bruce started wondering if he should text Diana or Barry. Clark only seemed to be only so aware and would probably not realize what he was doing if he pulled out his phone. Although, if he was wrong, he'd likely have a high price to pay.

"Clark, what happened to you? The others?" A question, he didn't entirely mean to say out loud, and figured would be utterly ignored, got Clark's full attention. "Others?" Clark repeated, his eyes wide, his voice more painful to hear than ever before. Bruce stiffened instinctively. "What others?" Him firmness, which only made his weak voice more pronounce, resonated with fear and shock. "...Clark, I-" Bruce started to say, putting his hands up and motioning for him to stay down. "Bruce. Who did they take?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> As you may have already noticed, this story will be leaving out some cannon abilities or toning some down for superman (he's still fast, but can't reverse time or go at the speed of light), I've also not read every DC comic so you'll have to forgive me for any blaring inaccuracies you find. Relationships are not the main point of this story, though if as I'm writing I find two characters have made good chemistry, I might have them hook up. Whenever I introduce a character I'll be introducing them both by their real name and their superhero name, as I don't expect all my readers to know who green lantern and other characters are by name.  
> Complements and criticism are greatly encouraged!


End file.
